by Rachel Hauck
Anderson laughed outright. "Somehow I can't see you in makeup, spitting barbs for a living."
"I had fun, but you're right, it's not for me."
"Coaching high school boys is for you, Burke. You got your college degree don't you?"
Burke nodded. "I finished up five or six years ago in the off seasons. Physics major."
Coach Anderson slapped the desktop and spoke with confidence, not mincing his words. "There you go, an athlete and a scholar. You're a wonderful role model."
"I'll be honest with you, Coach. I came home because I felt the Lord had a purpose for me here. I've been praying for Him to lead me to the right job."
"I've never been a religious man, but you'd be molding young men, Burke. Not only in the game of football, but in personal character and integrity."
"I'm well aware of the impact a high school coach has on his players. And, for the record, I've never been a religious man either." Burke's eyes met his old coach and friend's. "It's not about religion, it's about a relationship."
Coach diverted his gaze. "You're lucky to have found the keys to commune with the Almighty."
"A relationship with the Father is not like making a lucky catch on the one yard line when your team is down by three. It's more like falling in love with someone beautiful and magnificent, someone who loves you more than you ever dreamed possible. That's how Jesus feels about us."
Coach Anderson squirmed and chuckled nervously. "I never heard it described quite like that before."
"Yeah, we often forget God so loved the world He sent His only son to die for us. We tend to paint the picture of God being so angry at the world."
Anderson paused for a brief moment before he answered. "Tell ya what, Benning. I'll consider what you've said if you'll consider what I've said."
Burke reached across the desk, offering his hand. "I'll call you by the end of the week."
Anderson grasped his hand with a powerful grip and shook. "I won't have to deal with your agent will I?"
Burke laughed outright, picturing the direct, no frills coach interacting with his fast-talking, aggressive agent. "No," he said with a wave of his hands. "No."
"Good, I'll look forward to hearing from you."
Chapter Six
Duke pushed his chair away from the table and patted his stomach. "Good dinner, Belle. Hit the spot."
Belle tossed her napkin on the table and reached for the empty plates. "Thanks, Daddy."
"Fine company," he added, turning to Spencer, offering him a toothpick from a thin wooden box.
"I always get good conversation at the Jamison household," Spencer said, winking at Belle, declining the offer for a toothpick.
"You're an antagonist," she said, furrowing her eyebrows with mock disdain, but unable to hide a wry smile.
"He's a lawyer, Belle. Argues for a livin'," Duke said, defending the Jamison's guest.
"That's no excuse to argue for argue sake."
"Sure it is," Spencer said. "Got to keep my wit sharp."
"If it were any sharper, you'd cut yourself," Belle said drolly over her shoulder as she set dishes in the sink.
Duke and Spencer laughed.
"Why don't ya two kids go relax? I'll do the cleanin' up," Duke suggested as he got up from the table and tried to ease Belle away from the sink.
"It'll only take a minute," she argued, squirting soap into the sink and turning on the hot water.
"Now don't go learnin' to argue from ole' Spence, there. Obey your Pop and do as you're told. I'll bring ya some ice cream out to the porch when I'm done."
"Sounds good to me," Spencer said, his hand reaching for Belle.
She tossed her dishtowel on the counter and feigned a scowl. "Oh, fine. You contradict Daddy all through dinner and now you decide to side with him."
"Go on, Girl. I need some time to myself," Duke said, giving her a gentle nudge on the back.
Outside, the evening breeze blew softly, perfumed with the sweet scent of prairie grass. Belle sat on the porch swing next to Spencer, and he gently set it to rocking.
She faced the breeze and took a deep breath. "Hmm, it smells good."
Spencer snorted, taking an over exaggerated sniff. "Burnt grass and manure. Marvelous."
She laughed and tapped him lightly on the arm. "City boy."
Spencer dropped his jaw and stared at her wide-eyed, his hand over his heart. "I believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
Belle just shook her head and rolled her eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I thought you'd never ask." He scooted closer, slipping his arm across the back of the swing and around her shoulders.
She stiffened and slumped forward a bit. She loved Spencer's company and friendship, but his efforts to take their relationship to a deeper level made her nervous.
He pressed her. "When are we going to get serious?" The swing stopped its gentle motion.
"I like the way things are now," she answered honestly, staring at him for a moment, thinking how handsome he was with a lock of his thick black hair falling over his forehead and his brown eyes sparkling as if he knew a joke no one else knew. But in all the years they'd been friends, Spencer had never captured her heart.
He repositioned himself and leaned against the arm of the swing. "Have I been wasting my time with you?"
She shot him an inquiring glance. "Wasting your time, counselor?"
"You know I've always wanted more than friendship. Maybe marriage."
She slid off the swing and leaned against the porch rail. "You never said that."
Spencer moved to stand beside her. "So, I'm saying it now."
The meaning of his words hit her heart like a sledgehammer. "Are you asking me to marry you?" Her breathing became shallow, and her face reddened.
"Maybe," Spencer started, drawing out his words if he were about to plea-bargain a case.
Belle ran her hands through her hair, causing her short strands to stand on end. "Sometimes I wonder if you just want what you can't have."
Spencer let out a low, cynical laugh. "You think I'm playing a game?"
Belle faced him, arms crossed. "I don't think you've thought this through. Marriage. Family. Diaper changes, crying babies, and a mini-van with sticky seats. Is that what you want?"
"Sure. Why not?" Spencer answered quickly.
Belle studied him a moment. His attitude confirmed her suspicion that he hadn't truly considered all the ramifications of married life.
Just then the front door screen squeaked open and Duke hollered, "Ice cream, ice cream. Get your ice cream-" He stopped mid-sentence after one look at Belle's face. He handed them their bowls and left without a word.
"Intuitive man, your father," Spencer said, swirling his vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup with his spoon.
"Perceptive." Belle took a small spoonful, but it went down cold and tasteless. With a heavy sigh, she decided to pour out her heart. "After Burke and I broke up-"
"You call that a break up?" Spencer asked, a snide laugh punctuating his question.
She cut her gaze to him, warning him that she had something to say. "You showed up at every turn, making me laugh when I never thought I'd laugh again. You helped me through the toughest time of my life."
"See, there you go. We belong together like peanut butter and jelly."
Belle sighed, shaking her head. "Sticky and sweet. You seriously think we belong together?"
Spencer hesitated. "I want to."
"But deep down, in that inner place where your thoughts dwell when you're alone, or the pristine moments just before going to sleep, you don't believe I'm the one, do you?"
He leaned forward and stared at the porch floor, his jaw muscles knotting. "I love so many things about you, Belle."
"I love things about you too, but we both know that is not enough."
Neither one of them said anything for a long while. They sat on the swing, looking in opposite directions, cradling bowls of melting ice cream.
Finally, Belle broke the silence. "After Burke abandoned me, I didn't think I ever wanted to fall in love again. But, I know now that I do."
Spencer set his bowl on the porch and slipped his arm around her shoulders again. "Then move on with me. Love me."
She glanced askance at him. "I do love you. And in your way, I know you love me. But it's not the kind of love that makes a marriage."
"Have your prayed about us?"
She held his gaze and answered his challenge. "Yes, I have. Many times."
"And?"
"And…" She shrugged, hesitating, searching for the right words. "My love for you is as a friend and brother in Christ. I believe that's all we are to be."
As much as she hated having this conversation, she knew it needed to happen. She adored Spencer, but the road of their relationship charted no detours to love and marriage.
"Then I have been wasting my time."
"Are we back to that? Tell me, counselor, how much time have you spent praying about us?"
"I've tossed a few prayers toward the Almighty."
"And?"
He shrugged, admitting, "Nothing really. Pretty much what you said, I reckon. I just never considered it His real answer."
Belle couldn't help but laugh. "You can't relate to God as a lawyer. He's not trying to win a case."
Silence fell between them again as they watched the fading Oklahoma sky.
Suddenly, he chuckled softly.
Belle turned to him. "Did I miss the something?"
He rubbed his chin. His brown eyes seemed to be smiling as he confessed. "I always imagined one day we'd look each other in the eye and wham, we'd fall in love. I suppose that's not very realistic."
"Oh, I don't know. It happens sometimes. Just not with us."
"You know, this actually feels good, doesn't it? We've defined our relationship."
Quietly, Duke called from the open window. "Belle, phone for ya."
She turned around, surprised. When did the phone ring? "Who is it Daddy? Can I call them back?"
Spencer patted her hand coolly. "Go ahead and take it. I have to get going. Early court date in Tulsa."
"Spence," she started, not wanting the evening to end with him feeling dejected.
He stepped off the porch, turned and flashed Belle his crooked smile. "I'm fine," he said as if he read her thoughts. "Talk to you later." Belle watched as he got in his truck, then waved as he drove away.
Duke met her as she stepped inside the door. "Everythin' okay?"
Belle nodded, tears stinging in her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "I'll take the call upstairs."
She picked up the hall phone. "Hello? Daddy, hang up, I got it."
"Hello, Belle, it's Burke."
Chapter Seven
Belle dropped into the seat of the old phone desk, her heart pounding like a symphonic drum.
"Hello," she said again, her voice cracking.
On the other end, Burke paused before asking, "How are you?"
So unlike him, Belle thought, to sound unsure. She answered without thinking. "Why do you care?"
"I guess I deserve that."
She felt the familiar tug of conviction. If she truly had forgiven Burke, if she truly believed she could press on to the high calling of God in Christ, she had to forget what her past held. Including the actions of Burke.
"No. No you don't," she said, "I'm sorry."
"So, how are you?" he tried again.
"Good, good, I'm good." Belle whacked herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. Klutz! After being in the presence of the svelte, polished Grace, she must seem like a bumpkin.
"I'm glad," he answered.
The next minute went by without words.
"How's Grace?" Belle asked, wanting to say something, but not really wanting to know the answer to her question.
"She's doing well. She leaves soon for Australia to finish a film shoot."
"Australia. How exciting." What else could she say?
"How's your dad? I don't think he recognized my voice."
"No, he didn't. He's fine; workin' too hard."
"Sounds like your Dad."
"You remember old Chet Guthrie? We bought some of his land in order to expand our grazing acres. We're fixing to plant some new fences. Bought a couple of new Brahman bulls."
Burke chuckled softly. "I always hated planting fences."
"I remember," she said low into the phone.
The conversation faded into another minute of awkward silence. Burke finally cleared his throat and asked, "I'd like to get together sometime."
"I don't think so," she responded rapidly. As much as she wanted to heal the past with Burke, she dreaded the agony of digging it all up again.
"Belle, please."
"And say what, Burke?"
He sighed. "We have a lot to say, I think. Don't you?"
She bristled at his tone. "Maybe the time for saying things should've happened twelve years ago. I have nothing to say to you now."
"We can't go on like this forever," he said, sounding calm and in control.
"Why talk now? After twelve years? Did some mystical mark in time pass where we suddenly have to scour the past and clean our souls?" Belle stood, trembling. "What if I don't want to talk? I've worked hard to forget what you did to me."
"No chance for me to explain?" he said, a hopelessness echoing in his words.
"It's a little late for explanations, don't you think? I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to listen at the moment."
"I understand."
"Good night." With that, Belle dropped the phone onto the receiver.
She wrapped her arms around her waist, leaned against the wall, and cried. First Spencer, then Burke. Her emotions crumbled under the burden.
Duke called up the stairs. "Belle?"
"Yeah?"
"Ya okay? Who was that on the phone?"
"Burke."
"Burke? Well now, I didn't recognize his voice." Duke started toward her. "What'd he want?" He joined her on the floor by the antique phone desk.
"To talk."
Duke slipped his arm around her shoulders and cradled her in his arms. "'Bout time."
"I'm not reliving all that pain so he can feel better."
"Ah, Belle, now, ya need to talk as much as he does. Get all 'em unspoken words out of your heart. Maybe then ya could fall in love again."
Belle dropped her head into her hands, her rapid heartbeat slowing a little. "Burke is not the reason I haven't fallen in love again."
"I don't know 'bout that. It's what's been in my mind for a long time."
Belle eyed him between her fingers. "What's been on your mind?"
"You and Burke. Talking. Clearing the air. Don't ya want to know? Don't ya want to tell him how it hurt? This is a puzzle in your life that needs to be solved." Duke lowered his head to see her face.
Belle rested her chin on her knees. "I tried so hard to forget; I don't know if I can find the words. Besides, what good can come from solving the puzzle? It won't change anything."
Duke scratched his chin with thick, weathered fingers. "I'm not one for livin' in the past and hangin' my hat on life's disappointments, ya know that, kitten. But I am for healing hurts, askin' for and receivin' forgiveness. Talkin' to Burke ain't gonna change anythin', but it will close a door that's been standin' open too long."
"You're right. It's just weird, Daddy," Belle began, tenderness in her tone. "At the reunion softball game, I actually enjoyed being around him. I thought I'd gotten over the anxiety of seeing him. Then he calls tonight and all those old feelings and fears take control."
"Well," Duke said in his soothing tone, "then fix it. Talk to him."
She shifted her position and stretched her long legs out in front of her. "Next time I see him," she said dubiously.
"Keep seekin' the Lord, Belle. He's got a purpose here, I know it."
She dropped her head on Duke's shoulder. The overwhelming events of the evening caused tears to slip down
her smooth cheeks. Quietly, she recounted her conversations with Spencer and Burke.
Duke listened, gently patting her shoulder from time to time, interjecting words of wisdom.
Finally, when she ran out of stories to tell, Belle kissed him lightly on the chin. "For moments like these, I bet you wished Mom was alive."
Duke chuckled. "Tears have always been a little rough for me, but I do enjoy helpin' ya with your problems. If Colleen were here, I'd miss all the good stuff."
Belle hugged her father. "You're the best, you know that?"
Duke grinned. "Know what, kitten, if Colleen were here neither one of us might love Jesus like we do - you singin' your songs to Him and me spendin' my extra time in prayer ev'ry day."
"It's amazing how He turns all thing for good."
Duke offered an analogy. "He gives beauty for ashes. Maybe this time He will draw a diamond out of the ashes of you and Burke."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"For a long time now, your relationship with Burke has been nothin' more than ashes and coal dust. I'm thinkin' the Lord is about to reach in that mess and bring out somethin' beautiful."
"I don't have your faith, Daddy. Not when it comes to Burke."
"You will, kitten, ya will," Duke said. Quietly he began to share his heart. "I used to be right mad at Burke, myself. He was just about the closest thing I ever had to a son. I raised him right along with you. Cheered at all his football games, shared holidays and birthdays."
Belle listened as her father reminisced. "You loved him."
"Of course I did. Still do." He cleared his throat a few times, his hazel eyes fixed on the wall. "But when he broke your heart, it darn near tore me in two. It felt worse than your mother dying. I had a broken, wounded daughter I could not mend. Didn't understand the mystery of Burke walkin' out on ya like that. I lost one of my best friends."
Belle slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "I never heard any of this before."
"I didn't want to add to your burden," he said. "After awhile, time passed and we didn't discuss him around here."
